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I'm back from my yearly trip out to the desert, where my primary job function is to sell ice, and my secondary function is to have a blast. Both were achieved but not without a few bumps along the way.
I work one week out of the year as a station operator with two other stations. Those three stations are the only locations to get ice, and the operating hours are clearly posted on the signs outside the stations. We get two trucks in the bays, two trucks out.
I sometimes feel a bit guilty, primarily because I am permitted, nay, encouraged to ferret out SCs in my lines and use them to my advantage. Usually with enough cajoling I can convert a SC into a HC (Happy Customer) - our motto really is, "Come for the ice, stay for the abuse."
But every year I always run into the same SCs who believe themselves to be shot out of God's own urethra to be placed upon this earth for minions to serve and service. Fortunately, I run a team of people who are completely awesome - cashiers, truck guys, and carriers. The cashiers do the money work, the carriers run bags of ice from the truck to the counters, and the truck guys hack apart the pallets of ice and put them down for the carriers.
My second is a beautiful Midwest farm boy with a completely innocent face who also happens to be a trainer for cage fighters on the UFC circuit. So, buff and somewhat badass.
And there's me, who usually carries a megaphone and has a radio patched into the whole event festival circuit. And a greeter - someone who functions very much like the person at the front of the line at Fry's - "Counter 3. Counter 4. Counter 1." but with way more style - she wore a fishnet stocking and nothing else on the day the SCs showed up. Which is Friday.
The event runs from Monday to Monday, but the weekenders are usually the ones who just show up to party their heads off before trawling down the highway on Monday afternoon. And they're almost ALWAYS people who haven't come that often, so they don't expect the heat, the dirt, the lack of humidity - and then on Friday morning they all go off surly looking for someone to bitch at.
And we're open at 9AM.
Oh, I should also mention - we're all volunteers. We don't get paid to do this. The shift leads get a ticket to the event, so none of us have any fear of getting fired. Period. Well, I do, but I'd have to REALLY fuck it up to do that, and I don't ever intend to do so.
We also mooch like hell and make people dance for us. People who don't want to stand in the blazing sun can bribe us with halfgallons of hard alcohol and mixers, packs of cigarettes, or pole dances (and yep, we have a pole for dancing) go right to the front of the line.
Here's just a few examples from my week of SCs and my literal responses to them.
Linecutter: "Hey, I need ice."
Me: "I need a blowjob too."
L: "Are you telling me you want me to blow you?"
Me: "Well, only after 9."
L: "Can't you open the truck?"
Me: "Yep, got the keys right here."
L: "So give me my ice!"
Me: "Say please."
L: "Please give me some ice."
Me: "Sorry, I only wanted to hear the word 'Please', not used in a sentence. Back of the line."
L: "WHAT?"
Me: "What part of 'back of the line' didn't you understand? Thanks for playing 'Assholes Who Cut in Line! Please try again tomorrow!"
L: "Fuck you."
Me (in game show announcer voice): "No no no sir, fuck you. Fuck you very much, and fuck off to a nunnery."
SC: "Hey, he cut the line!"
Me: "He's wearing fishnets, and his girlfriend is too."
SC: "So what?"
Me: "So if you'd worn fishnets you could come to the front of the line today."
Fishnetters: "Ha ha, see? We dressed right!"
Me: "Oh, REALLY. Well, you have to dance for us for five minutes now."
Fishnetters: "Uh..."
Me: "Your choice. Dance or back of the line in 5, 4, 3, 2..."
Fishnetters hop up and start dancing.
Before Opening, HotCustomer: "I really need ice. Can't you just...I dunno, DO something, or can I do something for you?"
Me: "Got a cigarette?"
HC: "Yes! Right here."
Me: "Okay. *lighting up* Here's the thing. We're not open yet."
HC: I know. My camp sent me here because they thought I might be able to do something they couldn't.
Oh, THOSE assholes? The ones who didn't believe me when I said if they parked their car next to my truck exits, I'd sawsall their steering columns off and have the heavy equipment guys repo their cars, and who hurriedly ran to their cars when they saw me with a chainsaw stalking purposefully towards their BMW SUVs?
Me: "Yep. You can tell those fucking llama sodomizers that they can come get their ice en masse like actual men and not send a really hot chick who has nothing to do with what they want in their place because they're a bunch of whiny pussies."
HC: "So..."
Me: "Oh, I'll give YOU all the ice you want, but those douchewads can suck my unwashed testicles. Wanna whiskey shot?"
HC: "You drink on the job?"
Me: "You don't?"
Five minutes later HC has done shots, given me a lapdance, been spanked by me and two other people, and by the time her campmates come to see what she's up to, has draped herself over my accustomed seating position.
HC's Male 1: "What the hell, HC? You were supposed to get us ice early so we wouldn't have to jump the line!"
HC: "He's cuter than you are and he gave me whiskey. And my ass is sitting on five blocks of ice. We're making booty sculptures."
HC Male 1: "The fuck, man!"
Me: "I'm sorry, please remove your Cro-Magnon ass to the rear of the line. Failure to responsd in five seconds results in us hitting you with the Clue By 4."
HC Male 2: "What the fuck is a Clue by 4, asshole?"
Me: *hefting the 6ft long 2x4 painted with "CLUE"* all over it and grinning demonically*
*exeunt HC Male 1 & 2 stage left, hurriedly*
More to come.
I work one week out of the year as a station operator with two other stations. Those three stations are the only locations to get ice, and the operating hours are clearly posted on the signs outside the stations. We get two trucks in the bays, two trucks out.
I sometimes feel a bit guilty, primarily because I am permitted, nay, encouraged to ferret out SCs in my lines and use them to my advantage. Usually with enough cajoling I can convert a SC into a HC (Happy Customer) - our motto really is, "Come for the ice, stay for the abuse."
But every year I always run into the same SCs who believe themselves to be shot out of God's own urethra to be placed upon this earth for minions to serve and service. Fortunately, I run a team of people who are completely awesome - cashiers, truck guys, and carriers. The cashiers do the money work, the carriers run bags of ice from the truck to the counters, and the truck guys hack apart the pallets of ice and put them down for the carriers.
My second is a beautiful Midwest farm boy with a completely innocent face who also happens to be a trainer for cage fighters on the UFC circuit. So, buff and somewhat badass.
And there's me, who usually carries a megaphone and has a radio patched into the whole event festival circuit. And a greeter - someone who functions very much like the person at the front of the line at Fry's - "Counter 3. Counter 4. Counter 1." but with way more style - she wore a fishnet stocking and nothing else on the day the SCs showed up. Which is Friday.
The event runs from Monday to Monday, but the weekenders are usually the ones who just show up to party their heads off before trawling down the highway on Monday afternoon. And they're almost ALWAYS people who haven't come that often, so they don't expect the heat, the dirt, the lack of humidity - and then on Friday morning they all go off surly looking for someone to bitch at.
And we're open at 9AM.
Oh, I should also mention - we're all volunteers. We don't get paid to do this. The shift leads get a ticket to the event, so none of us have any fear of getting fired. Period. Well, I do, but I'd have to REALLY fuck it up to do that, and I don't ever intend to do so.
We also mooch like hell and make people dance for us. People who don't want to stand in the blazing sun can bribe us with halfgallons of hard alcohol and mixers, packs of cigarettes, or pole dances (and yep, we have a pole for dancing) go right to the front of the line.
Here's just a few examples from my week of SCs and my literal responses to them.
Linecutter: "Hey, I need ice."
Me: "I need a blowjob too."
L: "Are you telling me you want me to blow you?"
Me: "Well, only after 9."
L: "Can't you open the truck?"
Me: "Yep, got the keys right here."
L: "So give me my ice!"
Me: "Say please."
L: "Please give me some ice."
Me: "Sorry, I only wanted to hear the word 'Please', not used in a sentence. Back of the line."
L: "WHAT?"
Me: "What part of 'back of the line' didn't you understand? Thanks for playing 'Assholes Who Cut in Line! Please try again tomorrow!"
L: "Fuck you."
Me (in game show announcer voice): "No no no sir, fuck you. Fuck you very much, and fuck off to a nunnery."
SC: "Hey, he cut the line!"
Me: "He's wearing fishnets, and his girlfriend is too."
SC: "So what?"
Me: "So if you'd worn fishnets you could come to the front of the line today."
Fishnetters: "Ha ha, see? We dressed right!"
Me: "Oh, REALLY. Well, you have to dance for us for five minutes now."
Fishnetters: "Uh..."
Me: "Your choice. Dance or back of the line in 5, 4, 3, 2..."
Fishnetters hop up and start dancing.
Before Opening, HotCustomer: "I really need ice. Can't you just...I dunno, DO something, or can I do something for you?"
Me: "Got a cigarette?"
HC: "Yes! Right here."
Me: "Okay. *lighting up* Here's the thing. We're not open yet."
HC: I know. My camp sent me here because they thought I might be able to do something they couldn't.
Oh, THOSE assholes? The ones who didn't believe me when I said if they parked their car next to my truck exits, I'd sawsall their steering columns off and have the heavy equipment guys repo their cars, and who hurriedly ran to their cars when they saw me with a chainsaw stalking purposefully towards their BMW SUVs?
Me: "Yep. You can tell those fucking llama sodomizers that they can come get their ice en masse like actual men and not send a really hot chick who has nothing to do with what they want in their place because they're a bunch of whiny pussies."
HC: "So..."
Me: "Oh, I'll give YOU all the ice you want, but those douchewads can suck my unwashed testicles. Wanna whiskey shot?"
HC: "You drink on the job?"
Me: "You don't?"
Five minutes later HC has done shots, given me a lapdance, been spanked by me and two other people, and by the time her campmates come to see what she's up to, has draped herself over my accustomed seating position.
HC's Male 1: "What the hell, HC? You were supposed to get us ice early so we wouldn't have to jump the line!"
HC: "He's cuter than you are and he gave me whiskey. And my ass is sitting on five blocks of ice. We're making booty sculptures."
HC Male 1: "The fuck, man!"
Me: "I'm sorry, please remove your Cro-Magnon ass to the rear of the line. Failure to responsd in five seconds results in us hitting you with the Clue By 4."
HC Male 2: "What the fuck is a Clue by 4, asshole?"
Me: *hefting the 6ft long 2x4 painted with "CLUE"* all over it and grinning demonically*
*exeunt HC Male 1 & 2 stage left, hurriedly*
More to come.
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